This thing troubled Carley Farnsworth more than he liked to admit even to himself. A good many signatures had been denied to his nominating paper on the sole ground that Colonel Conway had refused to sign it, and the absence of his signature was the one effective plea of Webb and his followers. When Carley Farnsworth had gone to Colonel Conway to ask his aid, the sturdy old planter had replied: "I have reasons of my own for not signing your paper, Dr. Farnsworth. Please do not ask me what they are." To that there was no possible response. The request with which the Colonel concluded his reply made a peremptory end of the conversation so far as that subject was concerned, and so Carley Farnsworth talked of crops and the curing of hams instead. But Carley Farnsworth felt that this doubt, this question, this suspicion, was a seriously undermining influence in his campaign for his friend, which there was no means of meeting in Boyd Westover's absence. For, in whispers and by questions that could not be challenged as assertions, Webb and his followers were suggesting that Colonel Conway was only waiting for Westover's return before making public the reasons that impelled him to withhold his approval of his neighbor's candidacy, and that the fear of Colonel Conway's wrath was the real reason for Boyd Westover's continued absence. Carley's first impulse was to write to Judy Peters, telling her that Boyd's presence was necessary and giving her the reasons. But upon reflection he decided that this was a case in which Judy's objection to "puttin' things down in writin'" was peculiarly applicable and valid. So he sought converse with Edgar Coffey, who, under Judy's instructions, was "a hangin' round" the lower parts of the district, and confided to him the urgent and explanatory message he wished Judy to receive. On receipt of the message, Judy acted promptly, but in her own way. To Edgar Coffey she said: "You go home now, an' look after things there. You's got nine good hogs to kill this fall an' your wife's a feedin' 'em on apples. Your wife's purty, Edgar, an' her ways is pleasin', but she ain't got the sense she was borned with. She mixes the strippin's with the milk jes' as ef strippin's wa'n't purty nigh the same as cream, an' she hitches a horse to the body of a tree, 'stead of a swingin' limb, so's the beast can break the halter an' go home, leavin' her to walk. She done that at church only two weeks ago come nex' Sunday. An' now she's a feedin' hogs on apples when she orter be a givin' 'em corn to harden the meat fer killin' time. So you better go home an' fix things. I'll ten' to the rest." Edgar was grievously disappointed. He had confidently hoped to be himself Judy's messenger to Boyd Westover, but Judy was much too sagacious to permit that.